


We Are the Muses (Drawing 101 Remix)

by SlantedKnitting



Series: gifts given [20]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-03-29 12:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlantedKnitting/pseuds/SlantedKnitting
Summary: Morgana convinces Arthur to do some nude modelling for her art class. Merlin is in the art class. They both get distracted.





	We Are the Muses (Drawing 101 Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tari_Sue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tari_Sue/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Drawing 101](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1913457) by [Tari_Sue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tari_Sue/pseuds/Tari_Sue). 



> Tari_Sue, I loved getting you as my remix recipient! Your stories are such a delight, and I thought "Drawing 101" was hilarious. I hope you enjoy this, I had a lot of fun writing the boys in this scenario.
> 
> Thanks as always to my lovely beta!

"No, Morgana."

"Don't make me beg."

Arthur scoffed. "You've never begged for a thing in your life."

"I'm aware. I don't want to break my streak."

Arthur scoffed again. It wasn't his fault his sister had poor planning skills. It wasn't his fault her drawing class's nude model had backed out at the last minute. It wasn't his fault she hadn't secured a back-up beforehand.

And, really, she should have known to get a back-up. Gwaine was infamously inconsistent in his ability to follow through with plans. Arthur supposed Morgana's judgement was probably a bit clouded by love. He couldn't blame her for having a blind spot when it came to her boyfriend's flaws, but, _honestly_ , Gwaine was such a liability it was ludicrous she hadn't thought there was a chance it wouldn't work out.

Now she was stuck—an hour before her class began—and asking Arthur to fill in.

To fill in as a model. A _Nude. Model._

"Why are you so desperate to see me naked?" Arthur asked, mostly just to push her buttons.

Morgana pretended to vomit. "You're an idiot. I'm a businesswoman, Arthur. I'm asking you a professional favour."

"You're asking me to get fully naked in a room full of absolute strangers," he reminded her. "Surely you'd guessed how I would react to that 'favour'?"

"Please," Morgana said, sounding tired. "I'd do it myself, but I need to be able to walk the room."

"You'd get naked in front of your students?" Arthur asked, alarmed.

"It's an art class!" Morgana snapped. "They're meant to be drawing the human form. I'm a human! It's not that shocking, Arthur. Artists have been using nudity in their works since the dawn of bloody time."

"All right, all right," Arthur said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Please stop shouting at me."

"Does that mean you'll do it?"

Arthur sighed and rubbed at his temples. He couldn't believe he'd actually thought Morgana had just wanted to grab an innocent coffee with him. He should have known better. Nothing about Morgana had ever been innocent.

"It pays," she pressed.

Arthur snorted. "I don't need the money."

"I know. I'm trying to convince you of the validity of the request. They're all adults. They've all drawn nude figures before."

She'd glanced away at that last sentence, which probably meant it was a lie.

Arthur looked out the window, watched pedestrians fighting against the chilly wind, and considered his options.

He could decline and leave Morgana to do it herself, 'walking the room' be damned. Or maybe she would harass strangers on the street to do it. He'd quite like to see that, even if it did end in her getting arrested. Maybe she had a back-up for _him_ , even if she hadn't thought to get one for Gwaine. Surely there had to be someone else—anyone else—she could ask.

Or he could agree to it. He wasn't ashamed of his body, and he'd been in enough locker rooms in his life to have got over much of the fear of being seen by others. That didn't mean he relished the thought of stripping in a room full of strangers who were going to stare at him and only him for several hours, detailing every inch of his body for posterity.

Who would want that?

"You don't have to show them your face."

"You're going to give me a bag to wear over my head?" Arthur asked skeptically.

"I mean, you can face away from them. They don't have to draw your front if you're worried about that."

"I wasn't."

"Then what are you worried about?" she asked impatiently.

"My dignity."

Morgana rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."

Arthur smirked and looked back out the window.

He _was_ saving for a holiday. The modelling job probably didn't pay much, but whatever it was he could put it towards his savings. And then he could go to Paris knowing that his naked arse had funded at least a portion of the trip.

And if that wasn't the most absurd thought he'd ever had, he didn't know what was.

"Fine," he said before he could talk himself out of it. "Fine."

Morgana nearly melted into her chair. "Finally. Thank you, Arthur."

"You owe me."

"I said I'd pay."

"You owe me a lot more than money for this. And keep your eyes off the goods, all right?"

 

~~~

 

Gwen stood out in the cold for as long as she could tolerate, and then she waited just inside the door.

Merlin was late. Again.

They'd been taking this art class for months, and Merlin had managed to be late for nearly half the classes so far. It was a bit ridiculous, actually. It wasn't like he didn't know he had a tendency to be late. To _everything_. Surely he could plan a bit better, leave himself more time, find a different route—

"Coming?"

Gwen looked around and saw that the hall was empty. She was the only student left outside the classroom, and Morgana didn't look exactly impressed.

"Yes," Gwen said quickly. "Thank you."

She hurried inside and saw that, while everyone else was there, not many people had picked out their spots yet. They were all still mingling, helping themselves to the chocolate digestives Morgana had brought and talking about the horrible weather.

Gwen picked a spot in the centre of the back row and set her stuff down on the easel next to hers, trying to save a spot for Merlin in case he managed to show up at some point.

"Good afternoon," Morgana said, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. The rest of the class started dispersing to their easels. No one tried to take the spot next to Gwen. "As you know, today we will be focusing on nude life drawing. Our model will be out shortly, and once he has gotten into position you will have three hours to work. I encourage you to pay special attention to shapes and lighting and to pick an emotion you want to convey for your piece. Any questions?"

There was silence, so Morgana went to fetch the model.

Gwen set up her charcoal set, wondering who they were going to be drawing. So far, they had done a sweet elderly woman with a beautifully long plait and a middle-aged bald man with intense eyes.

She couldn't imagine what sort of person would agree to sit naked for three hours in front of room of perfect strangers. Not that she was judging. She was grateful. She just couldn't imagine ever agreeing to do that herself.

Morgana returned with the model, and Gwen had to duck behind her easel. He was young, he was _gorgeous_ , and he was about ten seconds away from being fully naked. She wished she had picked a spot off to the side. What if he sat facing forwards and she accidentally made _eye contact_ with him?

When she had the courage to look back up, Gwen saw that the model was stood facing away from the class, his backside on full display and a robe on the stool next to him.

He was still gorgeous, even from the back. He was tall but very broad. He had wide shoulders and muscles all the way down. Muscles in his arms, muscles in his back, muscles in his legs.

Gwen supposed it would probably take a certain amount of strength to stand still for three hours.

She started with his hair—saving _the rest_ for later—and tried to get the shading right. He had nice, soft-looking hair, and it was definitely sun-kissed. She wouldn't necessarily be able to get that across with her dark charcoals, but she could work on the texture and the shape.

By the time she was feeling somewhat okay about her progress, Merlin finally showed up.

 

~~~

 

It wasn't as bad as Arthur had thought. He was literally just standing. He had to be still, which was a bit annoying because his instinct was to slouch or shift his weight around to keep from getting sore, but other than that there really wasn't anything to modelling.

Except for the nudity part, but he had decided to keep most of that to himself by facing away from the class. It was odd knowing that so many people were staring at his arse, but, as he didn't have to look at any of them, he could try to pretend they weren't there.

He'd caught a quick glimpse of the class before he'd turned away and disrobed. There was an impressive mix of students under Morgana, some old, some young, some who looked thoroughly unconcerned at the concept of a nude model, and some who had been blushing before anything had even happened.

Arthur wondered if this was what it was like to be a bowl of fruit. Maybe if the bowl had a banana and some kiwis hidden behind it, and just one large peach sitting on display.

He bit back a laugh at the thought and tried to get himself under control. He had no idea how long had passed so far, but he knew he had a lot more time to stand there, and he couldn't dissolve into giggles so early in the process.

He made himself think about work instead. He had his own classes to worry about, and he was lost in lesson planning when there was a loud crash behind him.

Almost— _almost_ —forgetting where he was, and only just stopping himself from fully turning around, Arthur glanced over his shoulder.

There was an easel on the floor. Morgana and the easel's occupant were both looking annoyed, and there was a man scrambling around on the floor to right everything he'd apparently knocked over.

Arthur found it surprisingly jarring to be so forcibly reminded of the room full of people behind him. He'd been caught up in his own thoughts for a while and hadn't been paying any attention to his body. He might have moved, he might have made a noise, he might have shifted in some inconvenient way and ruined someone's drawing.

The students Arthur could see were all watching the man set the easel right, but, as he picked up the other student's supplies, eyes started turning back to Arthur. Heat prickled on the back of his neck, and he was about to turn away when he caught sight of the man on the floor's ears.

They were bright red, which made sense and which Arthur thought was only fair since he'd caused such a ruckus. They were also big. Like, noticeably big. But not in an unfortunate way. And the longer Arthur watched, the more he liked. The man looked tall and lean. He had a mess of brown hair on top of his head and a bit of stubble on his face. He had a long, sort of elegant nose that matched his long, _very_ elegant cheeks. And his cheekbones. Arthur had been told all his life that he had cheekbones that could cut glass, but this man was on a whole other level.

And his ears. They were still red—and still big—when he was finished picking everything up. As he got back to his feet, he glanced up and noticed Arthur staring.

'Sorry,' he mouthed before dashing out of sight to settle at his own easel.

Arthur turned his head again, facing the same blank spot on the wall, and tried to move on. He tried to get back to his lesson planning. When that didn't work, he thought about the paper he was writing. When that didn't work, he started composing his next piece. When that didn't work, he started reciting limericks in his head.

And, when that didn't work, he gave up and thought about the clumsy man.

He'd been so dreadfully clumsy and yet so terribly pretty as well. When they'd looked at each other for that brief moment, Arthur had seen his bright blue eyes and the flush on his long neck and his very kissable mouth.

And those big ears.

He was hit all at once with the thought that the clumsy man was now staring at his arse.

Arthur had to stop himself from flinching and clenching. He could feel himself going red and hoped it wasn't noticeable from the back.

The beautiful clumsy man was staring at his arse. His bare arse.

Arthur searched the wall in front of him for something, anything to distract himself, but it was just a long stretch of nothing.

He forced himself to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and reset. Attractive men had looked at his arse before, although probably not with such an academic scrutiny. He didn't need to let this derail him. He could go back to thinking about work.

Instead, Arthur found himself wondering what his arse looked like from the back. He had never seen it from that angle. He hoped he didn't have some horribly hairy mole or awkward birthmark that all of his past partners had declined to tell him about.

He knew that was a silly notion, though. He'd seen most of his arse in the mirror, and as far as he knew, it was free of blemishes. It was a perfectly nice arse, if he did say so himself.

He wondered if the clumsy man was enjoying it.

 

~~~

 

Morgana moved slowly amongst all her students, checking on their progress, helping them to find the right line or light source, keeping them on track to finish within the allotted three hours.

It was odd, she finally acknowledged, to see so very many depictions of her brother's backside. It wasn't like she hadn't seen it before—Arthur wasn't very bashful when he was drunk and had access to a body of water in which to skinny dip—but she certainly hadn't seen it for such a sustained period of time.

They were barely 30 minutes into the class when she came across someone on the very end of the front row who had a slightly different perspective than most of the rest of the class. He could see more of Arthur's side, more of Arthur's front, and was drawing accordingly. Morgana made sure to praise his sense of shape before fleeing to the other side of the room to start her rounds over.

And that was when poor Merlin decided to finally make an appearance. He was almost always late, although usually not _this_ late, and usually not this clumsy. Because almost as soon as he appeared, Mordred's easel and canvas were on the floor, and Merlin himself was crawling around apologising as he tried to right everything.

He was such an adorable buffoon. Even Arthur, who was watching with an attempt at a disdained expression, looked a little charmed by Merlin's bumbling.

Once Merlin had Mordred set back up, he went to the empty spot his friend Gwen had saved for him. He set up as quickly and as quietly as he could, and then he stared blankly at Arthur's arse for just a bit too long.

Morgana smirked and started walking the room again. Leave it to Merlin to be the one openly gawking at the model. At least the rest of the class had the decency to gawk at their own drawings rather than the real-life inspiration. But, then again, Merlin hadn't had any time to draw yet.

And it didn't look like he would start anytime soon, what with all the staring. Morgana cleared her throat, but Merlin didn't seem to hear. He just kept staring.

Then, finally, eventually, he looked away from Arthur and began to draw.

Morgana glanced over at Arthur and could see a bit of blush on the back of his neck. She wondered what he was thinking about. Maybe he was thinking about Merlin's grand entrance and feeling a bit of second-hand embarrassment. Or maybe he was thinking about Merlin's tight jeans and the way his arse had been on display as he'd blundered about on the floor.

Maybe, she thought, if she was able to get the two of them together, Arthur would forgive her for making him do this.

Because, really, she hadn't _had_ to. It was Gwaine's fault, really. He had overestimated Arthur's pride and bet Morgana 50 pounds and a nice dinner that Arthur would never stoop to baring himself in front of Morgana's students. And Morgana, trusting and maybe taking advantage of Arthur's loyalty, had accepted the bet.

She was a very good actress.

And now she was going to get an extra 50 pounds to pay Arthur with, a nice dinner out with her boyfriend, and probably a lifetime of never being forgiven once Arthur found out the truth.

But maybe, just maybe, if she could nudge Merlin and Arthur towards each other, and if they were foolish enough to fall for one another, maybe Arthur wouldn't hate her for this forever.

 

~~~

 

Arthur was stiff. He felt like he might never be able to move his neck again, and he was sure if he shifted his shoulders his whole back would give out and he'd crumple to the floor in a throbbing heap.

Modelling this way was surprisingly difficult. Arthur was strong and athletic, but running around on a football pitch with his friends was nothing like this challenge. It was the opposite, really. His legs were starting to cramp.

He could hear movement behind him sometimes as students got up to use the loo or eat more of Morgana's digestives. And he couldn't move at all. No breaks, no snacks, no nothing. Just seemingly endless hours of being stared at.

He was still grateful Morgana had given him the idea of facing away from the class. He couldn't even imagine how much more painful this would be if he'd had to stare out at all those faces and attempt not to make eye contact or keep his facial features perfectly still. As it was, he kept wincing every time another muscle went taut.

The only thing making it bearable were thoughts of the clumsy man—his ears, his hair, his eyes, his everything. Maybe it was just that there was nothing else to think about, but Arthur was completely stuck on him. He wanted to know more about the man, to see man's art, to see what being the man's muse could reap.

And he wanted the tables turned. He wanted time to look at the man's face up close so he could see if it really was as pretty as he was remembering. He wanted to study every feature, every angle, every secret of that face until his eyes had gone cross. Then he would write.

Poetic turns of phrases kept flitting though his mind, and he couldn't stop them.

It was an intoxicating relief when Morgana finally dismissed the class.

Arthur slumped and tried to stretch out his back before he remembered— _how could he have forgotten_ —that he was still fully unclothed. He put the robe back on and turned out to the class, watching all the students pack their things, eat more digestives, and resolutely avoid looking at him. He continued stretching, relishing being able to _move_ and look at something other than the blank wall, until Morgana came over.

"How was it?" she asked.

"I should ask you."

"It went well on my end. The students seemed to enjoy it. Some of them drew scenes around you."

"I thought they were supposed to be drawing the human form."

Morgana shrugged. "They did. And then they drew something else with it."

"Art is weird."

Morgana rolled her eyes. "That's rich, coming from you."

Arthur glared to hide the fact that he was pleased she would ever consider him an artist.

"Did you see the man who came in late?" Morgana asked in a low voice.

"You mean the one who spilled everything on the floor? That was hard to miss."

"Yes, but did you see _him_?" she asked.

Arthur had seen as much as there had been to see. And then he'd spent two and half hours doing a miserable job of not thinking about it.

"What about him?"

"You should go talk to him."

Arthur pulled a face. "And say what? 'How'd you like my arse?' I don't think so."

"Just go talk to him," Morgana said, her voice still low and private. "He's nice."

Arthur looked at his sister for a moment, trying to suss out her motivation. "Why?" he asked warily.

"Because he's sweet, and I think you'd like him."

Arthur glanced over at where the man was still working on his drawing. "He seems…"

"He's a very good artist."

Arthur shrugged and excused himself to get a digestive and find the loo. Maybe he should talk to the clumsy man. He'd wanted to, anyway. He'd wanted to get a closer look at him and his blue eyes and his cheekbones and his plump lower lip and his _ears_. And maybe it was like Morgana said. Maybe he was nice and sweet and a very good artist. Maybe he was perfectly lovely.

When Arthur returned to the classroom, the clumsy man was still at his station, frowning at whatever he was working on.

Brushing past the thought that he should put on his real clothes, Arthur went over and asked, "Mind if I take a look?"

The clumsy man looked up and gawked a little at seeing Arthur standing so close. "Oh," he said, and his voice was deeper than Arthur had expected. "I don't—um. It's not finished."

He blushed as he spoke, and the colour really emphasised the long planes of his face.

"I don't like people looking at my stuff before I've finished it," he clarified.

"Yes, but you owe me," Arthur said. He smiled to show that he wasn't really being serious.

"Owe you for what?" the man asked, looking a little dim.

"For being late. For interrupting me. Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on standing perfectly still while a room of strangers stare at your private bits?"

Arthur could see the man fighting with himself not to look down at the bits in question, even if they were firmly covered by the robe.

"Shame," Arthur said after a moment. "I had hoped you would be more than a pretty face."

It was a bad line, and he knew it, but it had the desired effect because the man came to life immediately.

"Yes, well, I was hoping you'd be more than a pretty backside."

Arthur laughed and tugged the robe a little tighter around himself, trying to pretend this was any other situation besides one where this man had been staring at his bare arse for the past two and half hours.

"How about we try to prove each other wrong over a pint?"

The man's expression slackened again, like he still hadn't fully come out of his art stupor.

"Okay," he said slowly. "You're buying though."

"Why should I?"

"You threw the first insult."

"I suppose that's fair," Arthur agreed. "Just let me put some clothes on. I'm Arthur, by the way."

"Merlin."

Arthur nodded and went to change. When he came back out, Morgana flagged him over.

"Well?" she asked pointedly.

"I'm taking him for a drink. Happy?"

"Yes," Morgana said, looking genuinely pleased. "Treat him well."

"Why would I treat him badly?"

"Because you're a bit of an arse sometimes, Arthur."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, we both know how intimately acquainted you are with my arse at this point."

Morgana pulled a face but let him go find Merlin without any more insults.

 

~~~

 

"You're _what_?" Gwen asked, handing Merlin the last chocolate digestive.

"Letting him buy me a drink," Merlin said, still not entirely believing it. Then, feeling guilty he wouldn't be able to join her on the Tube ride home, he added, "You can come if you like."

Gwen looked sceptical. "Why would you want me on your date?"

"It's not a date," Merlin said quickly. "It's just a drink."

"Sure it is, and he's hideous to boot. I can't, anyway. I have to get home to the baby."

"How is Galahad?" Merlin asked, more relieved than he would like to admit that she wouldn't be able to accompany him and Arthur.

"Loud," Gwen said, smiling fondly. "And very messy. A bit on the dramatic side."

Merlin chuckled. "Sounds like his father."

Gwen snorted and finished packing up her things before giving Merlin a hug. "Have fun on your not-a-date drink."

"I'll try," Merlin teased. "Tell Lance I say hi." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and watched her leave before going to find Arthur.

He found him at the front of the room, looking smug and standing near Morgana.

"Ready?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded and turned to say goodbye to Morgana, who was now also looking smug. She gave him a wave and an alarmingly wide smile, and Merlin wondered how she knew Arthur and what she was thinking about the two of them leaving together.

Arthur led the way to the pub, and soon enough they were sitting in a booth with their drinks. Merlin still didn't know how this had happened. The day had started off so normal, with a less than stellar shift at the restaurant and then bursting in late to his art class. Now he was at a pub with Arthur, the _nude model_ from the class, being treated to a pint and an up close and personal view of said model's face.

He'd become intimately acquainted with Arthur's arse during the class. He'd drawn it several times before settling on a final version, and then he'd shaded it to a fault. He knew every curve, every muscle, every dimple, every line, every inch the light bounced off.

Arthur's face was just as lovely. He had sharp features but a gentle expression, and his eyes were so blue and his lips so wide and his hair so soft-looking. Merlin ached to reach out and run his fingers through it, to find out for himself how it felt. He wanted to grab onto Arthur's hair and kiss him senseless.

He didn't know how he could want to do anything else after a class like that. Especially since kissing his bare arse would have been an exceptionally forward first move.

Not that his arse was bare anymore. Arthur looked good without clothes, but he looked good with clothes, too. They were tight in all the right places, showing off muscles and a tan despite the cold weather. Merlin found he couldn't stop staring at Arthur regardless of his state of dress or undress.

"What do you think of Morgana?" Arthur asked, pulling Merlin out of his thoughts.

"She's… good," Merlin said lamely. It didn't seem like Arthur was her boyfriend, but clearly they had some relationship if that was Arthur's opening question. "How do you know her?"

"She's my sister."

Merlin nearly choked on his pint. "Oh! That's—wow. That was nice of you."

"Nice of me?"

"To stand in front of her naked for three hours for the sake of her students."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, well. Her boyfriend flaked out, as usual. Apparently I was next on her list of victims."

"Was it awful? It looks painful."

"I'm a bit sore," Arthur admitted. "It wasn't awful, though. I think it would have been worse if I'd been facing you."

"Me?" Merlin asked, surprised.

"Not _you_ specifically," Arthur said, looking amused. "I meant the class. All of you."

Merlin flushed and went for another sip of his drink.

"So," Arthur started after an awkward pause. "What do you do for work? Are you an artist?"

"I make some money doing freelance," Merlin explained. "Mostly I'm a waiter. That's why I was late."

"Because waiters are always late?"

"Because something came up at work."

"Ah. Well, you made it eventually. And with such a grand entrance."

Merlin flushed deeper. "I was—you distracted me."

"Me?" Arthur asked, his tone innocent but his smile wicked. "What did I do?"

"You were just there," Merlin said, gesturing vaguely. "All… naked and with your arse in my face."

"It wasn't in your face," Arthur said, laughing. "It was at a perfectly respectable distance. A professional distance. Clearly that didn't matter to you."

Merlin felt like his ears were going to catch fire. He had nothing to say in response to that, so he tried a change of topic instead. "What do you do for work, then?"

"I teach at the university."

"Oh? What do you teach?"

"Poetry."

Merlin had a hard time believing that. "Poetry?"

Arthur nodded, looking serious. "Yes. Latin and Greek, mostly."

"Like… _The Odyssey_?"

Arthur nodded.

"Do you teach it in Latin?"

"Greek," Arthur corrected. "And only sometimes. I'm in the English faculty, so mostly I teach translations, but once every other year I teach it in the original for the Classics students."

Merlin licked his lips, drudging up a long-buried memory.

"Give me a thousand kisses," he recited, and Arthur's eyebrows shot right up. "And then a hundred more. Another thousand, another hundred, then yet another thousand, then a hundred. And then something about throwing them into confusion so no one will know how many kisses there were. Right?"

Arthur blinked, looking torn between laughing and correcting Merlin's translation. "Something like that," he finally said. "Why do you know Catullus 5?"

"I thought it was called _A Thousand Kisses_?"

"His works didn't have proper titles."

"Oh. Well, I had to take Latin in school."

"Had to?"

"My mum really wanted me to," Merlin explained. "I wanted to take French."

"Why French?" Arthur asked.

"Because I wanted to be able to go backpacking in France and actually speak with people in their own language."

"Did you?"

"Go backpacking in France? No." Merlin sighed. "Maybe one day. Have you ever been?"

"I'm going next year," Arthur said, clearly excited. "Not backpacking, just to Paris. I've never been before."

"Do you speak any French?"

"Not much," Arthur admitted. "I suppose I should brush up before I go."

"Mais oui."

Arthur smirked and took a long swig of his drink. "How'd you end up in Morgana's class?"

"I studied art," Merlin said, smiling ruefully. "Hence being a waiter."

Arthur shrugged. "No shame in having a day job if you still get to do what you love on the side."

"No shame," Merlin agreed. "I'm glad your teaching is allowing you to do what you love on the side."

Arthur looked confused.

"Nude modelling," Merlin clarified.

Arthur laughed, long and loud with his head tossed back like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard, and Merlin took the opportunity to take a good look at his neck. He was wearing a v-neck jumper that showed off the edges of his collar bones, and Merlin wanted to bite them.

Realising he was back in the realm of inappropriate fantasy, Merlin cleared his throat to get Arthur to stop howling at his bad joke.

"Do you write poetry as well?" he asked when Arthur had calmed down.

"I do," Arthur said, seeming embarrassed. "It's not my strength. It's just for fun, when I… when the inspiration strikes."

"What inspires you?"

Arthur looked down at his pint. "Beauty," he finally said, glancing up. "You?"

"Yeah," Merlin agreed, wondering if Arthur could tell that Merlin was actually talking about the face in front of him. Or the arse he'd been eying just an hour before.

"May I see some of your art?" Arthur asked.

Merlin thought back to the detailed drawing he'd done of Arthur's arse and felt the tips of his ears burning again.

"It's—"

"Whatever's finished that you want to share."

Arthur looked so earnest—so interested—that Merlin couldn't say no. He took out his mobile and pulled up a folder of photos of his work.

He passed it over and then occupied himself with his drink. He hated watching people look at his art.

"Wow," Arthur finally said. "These are all very good."

"That's how I get paid."

"Right," Arthur said, actually looking bashful. "Well, I meant… I like them a lot. Especially this one."

He handed the mobile back, and Merlin smiled at the piece Arthur had picked. It was a self portrait he'd done the previous year.

"You look lovely," Arthur said, his voice soft.

Merlin thought he looked rather sad, but he wasn't going to dispute the compliment. "Thank you." He looked up, and Arthur met his eyes, and they held their gaze for a long moment.

"So," Arthur said, looking away and reaching for his pint. "What, um… what are the rest of your weekend plans?"

"Nothing. I don't work tomorrow, so I'll just be… well, doing nothing probably."

Arthur took a drink and then licked his lips. Merlin had to force himself to look up at Arthur's eyes before he got caught staring at Arthur's beer-wet mouth.

"If you'd like, I… I was thinking of going to the cinema tomorrow," Arthur said quietly. "You can join me, if you want."

"Yeah?" Merlin asked, pleased that Arthur apparently liked him back.

"Yeah." Arthur offered a small smile, and Merlin couldn't imagine turning him down.

"Yeah," Merlin agreed. "That sounds great."

"Great," Arthur repeated before draining the rest of his drink. "Another?" he asked.

Merlin nodded, and Arthur excused himself to get their next round.

 

~~~

 

Merlin was late to the film the next day, which Arthur supposed he should have expected. He didn't really mind, though, and he invited Merlin back to his flat for drinks afterwards. Before he could get out the beer, Merlin had him pushed against the fridge with their lips smashed together.

"Is this okay?" Merlin asked, holding onto Arthur's neck.

Arthur nodded, impatient, and Merlin moved in for another kiss. He moved his hands to Arthur's hair, tugging slightly, and Arthur let out a groan as the sensation travelled down his spine.

"Your arse," Merlin said between kisses, "is perfection."

Arthur sniggered and went in for another kiss, pulling on Merlin's lower lip with his teeth as he pulled back. That made Merlin groan, which made Arthur do it again, which distracted them both enough that the conversation was lost.

Until Arthur had an idea.

"You ask," he said when Merlin ducked down to suck on his neck, "how many of your kisses are enough and more than enough for me."

Merlin looked up, his brow knitted.

"As many as the stars, when night is quiet, looking down at the secret loves of men."

"Which Catullus is that?" Merlin asked as he started undoing Arthur's flies.

His ears were flushed, whether with embarrassment at Arthur's impromptu poetry recital or arousal Arthur didn't know or care. He leaned in and flicked his tongue against one of them.

"Seven," he whispered before licking up the shell of Merlin's ear.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Merlin asked, clearly trying to keep hims composure.

"What?" Arthur asked, still distracted by Merlin's ears and wanting to nibble on them. Christ, he could write _odes_ to those ears.

"You teach poetry for a living and you expect me to be seduced by you having it memorised?"

Arthur looked down at where Merlin had his jeans pushed down to his thighs.

"Looks like it might be working," he pointed out.

Merlin hummed in agreement and pushed Arthur's briefs down as well. He stared down at Arthur for a moment, and then he smirked.

"Or not," Arthur muttered.

Merlin looked up. "What's that?"

"What were you just thinking?"

"I was thinking about bananas."

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"Bananas," Merlin said again. His expression was completely serious. "Like… fruit bowls."

Arthur stared at Merlin, his mind whirring through the same thoughts he'd had the day before during the art class.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked.

Arthur hurried to undo Merlin's flies as well. "Merlin."

"Bananas."

"Bananas," Arthur agreed. He nipped at Merlin's lower lip again. "You're ridiculous, did you know that?"

"I had an inkling." Merlin helped Arthur get him out of his clothes. "Do you like it?"

Arthur looked down at Merlin's body and then back up at his face, not sure what he was asking about. "Yes," he said, because that was the answer regardless.

"Good." Merlin pushed Arthur against the fridge again and kissed him. Arthur got his hands on Merlin's arse, and Merlin moaned into his mouth.

"Come on," Merlin said when he'd broken away. He took Arthur's hand in his and stepped back. "I assume you have a bed in here somewhere?"

"What's a bed?"

Merlin tugged on Arthur's earlobe with his teeth, and Arthur felt his knees nearly give out. "The thing I'm going to lie on while you feed me grapes and recite me more poetry."

Arthur grinned and, giving Merlin's hand a squeeze, led the way to the bedroom.


End file.
